


Negative Zone

by Bellsastuff



Series: Negativity [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: M/M, Torture, depressing shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellsastuff/pseuds/Bellsastuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing he could think of was how perfectly the Negative Zone was named.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negative Zone

**Author's Note:**

> (Alright. So I wrote this sucker back in 2007, back during the Civil War thing. And one thing that struck me was that no one mentioned a 15 year old kid getting sent to the bleakest, most awful place know to humanity that literally sucks out any joy you have. Picture Azkaban with Dementors, and that's the Negative Zone. And that's where Billy was sent.)

When he passed through the portal, the only thing he could hear were Cloak’s screams. Billy wanted to join him so bad but he could barely get a breath into his body as he spasmed on the ground. He was hauled up and carried to his cell by an uncaring robot guard but instead of checking out his surroundings, the only thing he could think of was how perfectly the Negative Zone was named. 

 

He didn’t see how any hope could survive in this place.

There wasn’t even sunlight. There was only a faint glow, making everything more dull and lifeless than it already was. He’d completely lost track of when days or nights were supposed to happen, leaving his sleeping cycle more than a little fucked up. And when he’d tried to cheer himself up with his mother’s words, he realized how pointless they were. The night may be the darkest before dawn, but what did you do when dawn never came?

 

It was always too dry in the Negative Zone. Always.

Billy’s lips were chapped within the first day he was jailed there and they started bleeding on the second. His skin followed suit, becoming ashy and even more pale than before and no amount of lotion could help. 

In fits of desperation he’d stick his head underneath the sink and try to get some into his skin. Even though he knew it wouldn’t work, he’d continue to try frantically, desperately. It was the only thing he could do, even if it was completely futile.

 

The noise in New York was something that you never needed till it was gone. And was it ever gone. Sirens never blared and cars never honked and people never hummed as they passed through the streets on their way to work. The only noises were the screams of the insane and the pained and Billy knew with a terrifying certainty that he’d be one of those screamers in a day or two. The only thing he could do was to lay on the concrete slab of his cell floor and wait for the cries to come.

 

He’d made a model of Mr. Fantastic in the summer of eighth grade. For that whole damn summer, he’d spent hours at a time painting the individual pieces and gluing them together. The shading was perfect on every piece and even the moles on his face were in perfect proportion to the real man.

He kept thinking about that model absentmindedly as Mr. Fantastic began to interrogate him. He pictured setting fire to every piece separately as his finger was pulled back and broken a millimeter at a time. The model had been his pride and joy but now… he could never see Mr. Fantastic again. He could only ever see Reed Richards instead.

 

The Negative Zone had turned Cloak into a disassociated mess, so Billy was left as the main person to interrogate about the Anti regs. One of his childhood idols had broken his fingers already. But the worst was when they’d made him stand for what seemed like days, using their tazers on him whenever his arms dipped down beneath his shoulders. He’d wanted to die then. But they wouldn’t let him. They just made him stand, watching silently as tears slid down his face.

 

The man in the cell next to him was named Jorge. Jorge had no interest in becoming a super hero. All he wanted was to be a good police officer and he had been for over 20 years. But when the government learned that he wasn’t going to register his slightly subhuman strength on the grounds that it was immoral, they’d made an example out of him and sentenced him to the Zone. 

Jorge was a good guy. Tall and almost as bulky as Luke Cage and with a deep voice that was always practical. Billy liked him and owed him a lot for keeping him safe during their 20 minute walks in the courtyard. He also was thankful for the conversations that they had. After one especially tiring interrogation session, Billy’d come back with righteous fury. 

“Haven’t they ever heard of the god damned Geneva Convention?!” He yelled, “Don’t they know that this is immoral? Don’t they know enough to not torture kids? How the hell is the American public letting them get away with this?!”

“You’re not a kid anymore,” Jorge replied, “To them, you’re just another set of mass casualties.”

 

By the time Hank Pym had come to his cell, Billy had learned how to disassociate. He’d learned how to stare at the concrete and let his eyes focus, mind going blank and numb. He didn’t see Pym’s costume or his face or his eyes, but he did hear Teddy’s voice, quiet and familiar. “Billy, it’s me.”

He snapped his head up and stared wildly at the scientist standing in his cell. That was Pym’s body and his face, but those eyes… they were Teddy’s. He tried to open his mouth but nothing came out, only a dry squeak from not getting enough water to drink. 

Teddy walked over to him and gave him one of his bone crushing hugs, the product of super human strength. He muttered quietly into his ear, “I’m breaking you out tonight. Be ready, Bill.”

He finally managed to squawk out, “If it doesn’t happen, you have to kill me. I can’t do this, Teddy.”

Teddy held him closer and Billy found himself to be incredibly self conscious about the weight he’d lost. But every other thought was chased away by gratitude when Teddy answered, “If I can’t get you out, I will.”

 

As the cell doors opened, Billy screamed directions to his fellow inmates, leading them to the rooms where their uniforms and belongings were held. He tied his forehead protector over his greasy hair with complete resolve and felt his heart pounding again as he led the screaming mob towards Teddy. Towards home.


End file.
